PS 3545 
.E33 G6 
1922 
Copy 1 



The Golden Arrow 

BY 

JAMES PLAISTED WEBBER 




THE GOLDEN ARROW 

A Romantic Sketch 

BY 

JAMES PLAISTED WEBBER 




BOSTON 

WALTER BAKER & CO. 

1922 






5^ 



s^'^'^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1922 

BY 

JAMES PLAISTED WEBBER 

Amateurs may produce this sketch 
without payment of fee, but permis- 
sion must be asked of the author, 
addressed in care of the publishers. 
All professional rights are reserved. 



DEC 26 1922 



TO 
MARILYN MILLER 



NOTES 
Variant : By the use of a variant of 
the beginning of this sketch and the 
omission of some lines later, "The 
Golden Arrow" may be played by 
but two performers, one actor taking 
the roles of both Brother Ambrose 
and Abelard. This substitution will be 
supplied by the author, who may be 
addressed in care of the publishers. 

Costuming: Both Brother Ambrose, 
a monk somewhat past middle life, and 
the young postulant, Abelard, wear 
monastic gowns folding across the 
front, and with cowls hanging down 
behind. Brother Ambrose's gown is 
girt about with the knotted cord indic- 
ative of his vows; that of Abelard, 
the young postulant, by a leathern 
girdle. The latter, who presently lays 
aside his gown, wears beneath, a long- 
skirted smock. Brother Ambrose is 
tonsured. Both wear sandals. Heloise 
wears the costume of one of Watteau's 
conventional shepherdesses. She is 
bare-headed and carries a lute. 

Music : A setting of Heloise's song 
will be found at the end of the text 
of the play. The use of the lute is, of 
course, not essential. At the moment 



the bell ceases to toll for terce, it may 
prove effective to have from time to 
time soft music as from the chapel 
beyond the refectory. The Ave Maria 
by d'Arcadelt or the simple Gregorian 
tones, to be found, for instance, in 
Canon Douglas's " Plain Song Service 
Book" (published by the The Boston 
Music Company) might be played on 
a reed organ. By transposing the bass 
(not bass and tenor) one octave lower, 
the sound of a pipe organ is suggested. 
Still more effective would be the addi- 
tion of a small chorus of men singing 
some Gregorian chant — of course, in 
unison. This should be so soft that it 
would not matter whether the words 
were of a psalm proper for terce or 
not. 



THE GOLDEN 
ARROW 



CHARACTERS 

Brother Ambrose 

Abelard, a Young Postulant 

Heloise, a Playmate of his Childhood 



setting : A monastery garden plot with shrubberies and early 
flowers, enclosed by high walls. In that to the right, a solid gate with 
pivoting bar, now pinned in its cup, excluding intruders from the high- 
way. At the left, a door to the refectory. At the back, a bench. 
On it, a little book in ornamented vellum. At the right of the bench, 
a gilded arrow-shaped weather-vane. Above, the blue sky of a fine 
May morning. 



THE GOLDEN ARROW 

A Romantic Sketch 

Scene: A Monastery Garden, 

Time: A May Morning. 

{Enter from the refectory door, Brother Ambrose^ 
followed by the yotmg postulant Abelard.) 




B 



ROTHER 



.MBROSE 



Y son — 

Abelard 
Yea, father. 

Brother Ambrose 
{Crossmg to the right of the garden.) 
There is a lesson in all things. 

Abelard 
{Trimmi7ig the shrubberies at the left.) 
Yea, father. 



Brother Ambrose 

The life of man — is even as the flower of the 
field. As thou dost labour, meditate upon these 
words — but thou needst not trail thy gown thus 
in the dust! 

(Abelard doffs his gown, which he lays on the 
bench at the back wall.) 

Brother Ambrose 
( With breviary in his hand.) 
In the morning, it springeth up and flourish- 
eth; in the evening, it is cut down and withereth, 
and is cast into the oven. 

Abelard 
But, father — 

Brother Ambrose 
My son? 

Abelard 

I like better those other words: "Consider 
the lilies of the field: Solomon in all his glory 
was not arrayed like one of these." 

4 



(A^ this mome?tf, from the highway come the notes 
of a kite and then the voice of a maiden is heard 
singijig. The music instantly arrests the attention 
of both Abelard a?id Brother Ambrose.^ 

The Voice 

Love lies a-bleeding. 

Smitten by your beauty^ 
Love lies a-bleeding the June night through; 

Dawn conies a7id finds him 

Languishing enrapturd, 
With a cry of anguish, all for love of you, 

Abelard 
{Enthralled.) 
Father, dost thou hear? 

Brother Ambrose 
Yea, my son. 

Abelard 
Who is 't that sings? 

Brother Ambrose 

How should I know, my son? Some light- 
minded maid. 



The Voice 

Won t you send him heart' s-ease^ 

Just a purple pansy. 
For a soothing simple to cure him of his pain? 

Or a gift of poppies, 

To waft him off to Lethe, 
The river of oblivion, till he be well again ? 

Brother Ambrose 
{^Noting Abelard^s rapt attitude^ 
My son, heed not the voice of the charmer, 
charm she never so wisely. 

Abelard 
But, father — 

The Voice 

Love lies a-bleeding. 

But alas I you see 7iot 

His wounds that issue life-blood to bear him to 

his death. 

And you never hearken 

To his piteous accents. 

Calling in his wild despair your name with 

fevered breath I 

6 



Brother Ambrose 
My son, come hither! 

{Abelard goes to him and Brother Ambrose binds 
his eyes with a handkerchief^ 

Now, open thou yon gate. Bid the maiden 
cease her singing. 

Abelard 
Must I, father.? 

Brother Ambrose 
Do as thou art bid! 

The Voice 
IVoiit you send kim hearfs-ease^ 
Just a purple pansy ^ 
For a soothing simple to cure him of his pain? 

Abelard 
(^Having reluctantly unpinned the bar, swung it 
from its cup, and opened the gate. ) 

Maiden, the reverend Brother Ambrose bid- 
deth thee cease thy song. 

{There is a merry laugh outside as he bars the 
gate.) 



The Voice 
For a soothing simple to cure hitn of his pain, 

{Abelard sighs and removes the bandage from his 
eyes. Meanwhile Brother Ambrose has discovered 
the little book lying on the be?ich. He peers at its 
pages; then passes it to Abelard.) 

Brother Ambrose 
My son, what is yon book? Read me a line. 
Mine eyes wax dim for unfamiliar words. 

Abelard 
{Reading.) 
''And so Venus, banished by the Church, sent 
forth her son to work what mischief he might in 
Christendom., Sometimes she disguised the boy 
Cupid in thegarm,ents of a begging friar ; and by 
that device oft gained he admittaiice into monas- 
teries and other holy places 

{Abelard stops readifig to listen as the song is 
heard again.) 

The Voice 
Love lies a-bleedi7ig, 
S?nitte7t by your beauty. 
Love lies a-bleeding the fune night through. 

8 



Brother Ambrose 
{Reprovingly^ 



My son! 



Abelard 
{Reading on.) 

''much to the disquieting of the hearts of godly 
men, who thought that they had long shice for- 
gotten earthly loves. Sometimes with his golden 
arrows, . . 

Brother Ambrose 

Nay, cease, cease, my son. Knowst thou 
whose book this is? 

Abelard 

Nay, father, but methinks it promiseth pleas- 
ant pastime. 



B 



ROTHER /iMBROSE 



Pleasant pastime! Ah, 't is sad how the 
world is ever creeping in. Pray God thou 
prove not like that other Abelard whom Heloise 
of old ensnared. 



/iBELARD 

Heloise! 

Brother Ambrose 

Yea, Heloise, daughter of old Fulbert, who 
punished him so sorely. 'Twould go hard with 
thee, my son, were the Father Abbot to find 
thou dost still cherish such toys. But come, 
'tis nearly terce — carry thy prunings to the 
refectory fire. But leave thy book of fables. 

{Abelard lays down the book 2ipon the bench, and, 
gathering up his prunings, starts to the door at left.) 

The Voice 

Won (you send him heart' s-ease. 
Just a purple pansy, 
For a soothing simple to cure him, of his pain? 

{Abelard stops at sound of the voice from the 
highway^ 

Brother Ambrose 
{Turning, discovers Abelard lingeri?ig.) 
What, hast thou not gone? 

lO 



/IBELARD 

Going, father. 

(At this moment, Brother Ambrose sees for the 
first time the gilded weather-vane^ 

Brother Ambrose 
(^Picking up the vane.) 

Blessed saints! what have we here? 

Abelard 

That? 'Tis our ancient weather-vane the 
Father Abbot has but now replaced by the 
Holy Rood. 

Brother Ambrose 

The weather-vane! By holy Peter, I almost 
fancied it was Cupid's golden bolt, shot in here 
by Dame Venus' lad himself. Go thou! I'll 
lay it by the highway — belike some passing 
villager may set it on his granary. 

( Carrying the discarded weather-vane to the gate 
at the right, without going through the gate himself , 
Brother Ambrose places it outside, a?id then closing 
the gate, but neglecting to bar it, starts toward the 

II 



refectory. In passiiig the bench ^ he fiotes the book 
left by Abelard, picks it up, shakes his head over it^ 
tosses it over the back wall, and places in its stead 
his breviary. As he again starts toward the refec- 
tory^ there is a ge?itle tap at the highway gate.) 

Brother Ambrose 
Dominus vobiscum! Who knocks? 

The Voice 
It is I. 

Brother Ambrose 
I? I? I don't know who /is. 

The Voice 
And I know not who thou art. 

Brother Ambrose 
I am Brother Ambrose of the Monastery of 
Saint Dunstan. Who art thou, and what dost 
thou want.f^ 

The Voice 
I seek a young postulant named Abelard; 
and I, I am the friend of his childhood, one 
Heloise. 

12 



k 



Brother Ambrose 
{Startled:) 
Heloise! The saints preserve us! 

{To her.) 
Neither matrons nor maidens come within. 
Not even a mother could here see her son were 
he priest, novice, or postulant. The Reverend 
Abbot alone could grant that you speak with 
Abelard, and that but at the wicket of the great 
east gate. 

The Voice 
But the Abbot sent me even from the wicket. 

Brother Ambrose 
Then, maiden, depart in peace. 

The Voice 
Thou wilt not fetch him for me? 

Brother Ambrose 
Not for my soul! 

13 



The Voice 

And thou wilt not even let me see where he 
lives? 

Brother Ambrose 

Not for a moment! 

The Voice 
Nor where he prays? 

Brother Ambrose 
Never! 

The Voice 

I vow he prays ofttimes for me. Wilt thou 
not undo the gate? 

Brother Ambrose 
Maiden, cease thy plaints! 

The Voice 
Not even if — 

Brother Ambrose 
Not even if what? 

14 



The Voice 
Not even if I'll kiss thee? 

Brother Ambrose 
A vaunt, Sathanas! 

The Voice 
Look at me! 

{The owner of the voice begins opening the gate, 
which Brother Ambrose had forgotten to bar, but 
before she can catch his eye, he closes her out and 
swings the bar into place, this time, however, neg- 
lecting to pin it in its cup.) 

The Voice 
{As its oiv?ier is being thrust back.) 
I'm very nice to look at. 

Brother Ambrose 
Away! 

{A bell tolls for one of the Hours and Brother 
Ambrose passes to the door at the left. He has not 
quite disappeared when through a crevice between 
the gate and its jamb is thrust the golden arrow 

15 



of the weather-vane. The bar is thus lifted and 
HHo'ise slips in. She was quite truthful; for she 
is indeed very nice to look at. The bell continues 
as she looks cautiously about. Presently it ceases 
ringing. She conceals her lute behind some shrub- 
bery near the highway gate and then peers into the 
door at the left. Evidently she sees somebody com- 
ing, for she darts back. Then suddenly espying 
the gow7i on the bench, she dons it, quickly shadow- 
ing her face with the cowl, and sits with her hands 
folded meekly as any little brother of poverty. Abe- 
lard enters. From his sleeve peeps a scroll.^ 

Heloise 
{In a whisper of surprise, which he does not hear.) 
Abelard! 

{Abelard either does not see or else does not regard 
the meek little figure. He is evidently looking for 
somethi?tg, picks up the breviary, and somewhat im- 
patiently discards it.) 

Heloise 
Pax vobiscum! 

Abelard 
Et tecum! Who art thou and what dost 
thou here? 

i6 



H 



ELOISE 



A little brother of poverty, weary of the road, 
who rests a moment in your quiet garden. 

Abelard 

And why not at thy prayers? The bell for 
terce has rung. 

H ELOISE 

And why not thou? 

Abelard 
I seek for something I have lost. 

H ELOISE 

Verily, I did think as much. What was 't? 

Abelard 
A little book. 

H ELOISE 

Thy breviary? 

Abelard 
Nay, not my breviary. 

17 



Heloise 
I prithee, what? 

Abelard 

I dare not — I dare not tell thee, and yet I 
little reck the Abbot's discipline. 

Heloise 
Nay, my son, speak out 

Abelard 
O, but I fear thou'lt think it sinful. 

Heloise 
Why? 

Abelard 
'T is of the world. 

Heloise 

But all the world is God's and all that is 
therein. 

Abelard 

But this is of the pagan world. 

i8 



Heloise 

Ah! 

Abelard 
Shall I tell thee? 

Heloise 
I prithee, do. 

Abelard 
{Sitting beside HHoise.) 
'T was an old story. 

Heloise 
{Encouragingly. ) 

Yes? 

Abelard 
How Venus, goddess of love, when banished 
by the Church — 

Heloise 
Yes? 

Abelard 
Once sent her son Cupid into the world dis- 
guised as a begging friar, a little brother of 
poverty. 

19 



Heloise 

Yes? 



A 



BELARD 



And with his golden arrows oft gained he 
admittance to monastic walls. 

Heloise 
Speak on! 

Abelard 

That was as far as I read. I had just begun 
the book when Brother Ambrose sent me to 
the refectory; and now I steal from prayers, 't is 
gone. 

Heloise 

How camest thou by the book.f* 

Abelard 
r faith, Brother Ambrose found it! 

Heloise 
And where, i' faith? 

20 



Abelard 
Why, even here upon this garden bench. 

Heloise 

And how, thinkest thou such book came 
here? 

Abelard 
How high are these imprisoning walls? 

Heloise 
Too high to scale with ease. 

Abelard 

But not too high to toss my booklet over. 
And verily I believe 'twas thus it came. 

Heloise 
And dost thou grieve to lose it? 

Abelard 
Yea, more than I care to tell. 

21 



Heloise 
And Brother Ambrose, 'twas, thou say'st, that 
found it. Was't he who bade a maiden cease 
from singing in the road? 

Abelard 
Nay, that was I, but at his bidding. 

Heloise 
And why should she not sing.? The lark is 
singing yet. 

Abelard 
Yea, but her song savoured of an earthly love 
and so annoyed sorely. 

Heloise 
Annoyed thee-f^ 

Abelard 
Not me but Brother Ambrose. O, I loved it 
well. In sooth, he knew I loved it all too well. 
But tell me, how know'st of the maiden's song.f* 

Heloise 
I passed her on the road. 

22 



Abelard 
O, tell me, was she not fair to look upon? 

Heloise 
How can I say? I scarcely heeded her. 

Abelard 
Her voice was as the voice of one I knew. 
O, I could listen to her song forever! 

Heloise 
Alas! poor postulant, methinks thou hast lost 
somewhat else besides thy book. Come tell me 
what else thou hast lost! 



Abelard 

Heloise 



Nothing. 

Nothing? 

Abelard 

O, my gown, that I laid aside at Brother 
Ambrose's bidding lest I soil it in the dust 
a-pruning of these shrubberies. Belike he has 
borne it for me to my cell. 

23 



Heloise 
And is that all that thou hast lost? 

Abelard 
That and the little book. 

Heloise 
In sooth, I wot there might be somewhat else. 
Art happy here? 

Abelard 
Not yet. 

Heloise 
And hast thou ta'en thy vows? 

Abelard 
Not yet — this eve at vespertide. 

Heloise 
And so thou still art free? 

Abelard 
Yea, free, but ah! for such a little while in 
our eternity of time. 

24 



Heloise 
I prithee what is yon scroll thou hidest in thy 
sleeve? 

Abelard 
I dare not show thee. 

Heloise 
Wherefore these fears? Am not I a little 
brother of the road who knows the world and 
the heart of youth? Read me yon scroll. 

Abelard 
{Readi7ig with ardor.) 
May is the 7norning, 
May is your life, 
And Mays on the hedgerow, my love. 
O, but to sing once, 
My heart overflowing. 
With you at the lattice above! 

O but to win 

Your heart with my music 
On such a May morning as this : 

25 



Till in a moment 
Fve scarcely dared dream, of^ 
You give m.e your first true-loves kiss I 

That were a day 

Whatever the season, 
With scarlet and gold to emblaze. 

Would that this morning 

With May all arou7id 7is 
Might be that ivojider of days I 

Heloise 
(^Repeating.) 
" Would that this morning 
With May all around us 
Might be that wonder of days f' 

I do perceive, poor postulant, thou art in 
love. Come, tell me whom thou lovest. 

I prithee do! 

Abelard 
A vision exquisite, of loveliness, of innocence, 
and May! — the playmate of my childhood. 

26 



He LOIS E 

The playmate of thy childhood! Where did 
she dwell? 

Abelard 
A league away. Her father's house across 
the hedge from mine. 

He LOIS e 
And why, poor postulant, didst thou leave 
her and shut thyself within Saint Dunstan's 
walls-f* 

Abelard 
Alas! in wild despair because she never gave 
her love to me. 

Heloise 
And so? 

Abelard 
Methought to find my peace here, harboured 
from the world. 

Heloise 
And hast thou ever found it? 
27 



Abelard 
Nay, and never shall. 

Heloise 
(^Rising and drawing forth the arrow ^ which she 
has hitherto concealed^ and feigning to draw a bow.) 

Then look! 

Abelard 
(^Starting up.) 

The boy Love! 

Heloise 
{Nodding:) 
Dame Venus' son. I'll strike thee with my 
shaft of gold. 

Abelard 
{Recoiling^) 
Nay! for the love of saints forbear! 

Heloise 
(^Advancing upon him a?id striking his breast at 
the last word.) 

In the name of Heloise! 
28 



Abelard 
Heloi'se 

Heloise 
What wouldst thou do if she came here 
before thou tookst thy vows? 

Abelard 
And told me that she loved me? 

Heloise 
And told thee that she loved thee. 

Abelard 
Fly forth with her through yonder gate! 

Heloise 
{Casting off the monastic gown.) 
Then come! 

Abelard 
(^ffe clasps her to him, his lips at hers.) 

Heloise! 

Heloise 
{Freeing herself.) 

Nay, not a word. I'll tell thee all. 
29 



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